Prologue
His lungs ache and low-hanging limbs claw at his face as he pushes through the dense growth, but he can’t stop. Not now. Not after everything he has given up to be here. Gods, how did he get here? It all seemed so simple, yet looking back he can’t believe how foolish he was. He breathes out a bitter laugh. That stupid story. Why couldn’t he just let it go? At this rate, he’ll die on this godsforsaken island and none of it will even matter.
An arrow hums past his head and he ducks into the undergrowth at the edge of the clearing. Too close. That was way too close. He looks out across the glade and assesses his chances of making it across without dying. They’re not good, he decides, so the long way it is. The crashing of footsteps behind him has stopped, but he knows the men have not given up their pursuit. They continue to stalk him with a preternatural silence, their malevolent energy causing unrest. The once lively forest now holds its breath, the air quickly becoming stagnant as the breeze dissipates.
Still crouched in the thicket, he begins a dangerously slow shuffle along the perimeter of the clearing, gently removing thorns as they snag his clothes and threaten to reveal his location. His fear is palpable, thrumming in the thick, moist air around him. A droplet of blood begins to slide down his arm where a thorn has pierced his skin. Sucking in a near-silent breath through his teeth, he removes the thorn, wipes away the blood with the hem of his shirt, and continues his course. He just needs to make it back to the caves. If he makes it there, he’s safe.
It took him nearly a year to find the entrance to the complex network of tunnels that runs beneath the island, but since then he has made the caves his home. And although he has spent nearly two years mapping out the underground pathways, he has yet to find what he came here for. Which brings him back to the ever present reminder that he gave up his life—his family—to chase after a fairy tale like an unhinged lunatic.
He sends a prayer up to Dominus—the god of family and home—that he will live long enough to see his family again, and jumps to his feet. As if they knew exactly from where in the bramble he would emerge, arrows immediately begin raining down on him. He rushes to close the gap between where he had been crouched and the mouth of the cave, focusing on his breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart telling him that he is still alive.
A blast of cold air greets him and his eyes quickly adjust as darkness begins to swallow the light around him. The caves welcome him home with a cool, damp embrace. A little bit further and he won’t have to worry about any followers. They may command the island, but the caves bow to no one.
As the darkness closes around him, he becomes keenly aware of the sticky, wet trail of blood running down his side. He can’t risk going back into the light to assess the damage right now, and he won’t be able to make it to his camp in this state, so he’ll have to staunch the bleeding and hope he can outlast the enemy at his front door.
